The Greatest Man
by hippiechic
Summary: Who is the greatest man? Read and find out who and why. Oh, he's not Goku, if that helps. Warning: This story seems to have a sob factor.


Disclaimer: I sure do! ^_^ In my dreams!  
  
A/N: I'd like to get a few things out of the way before you even start reading. First off, I haven't seen GT and I might have Bra and/or maybe Trunks slightly OOC, though I doubt it. Just don't gripe at me, okay? This fic takes place after GT. You'll understand as you read through this. I'd like to say thankies in advance to all the people I know will review. This is a one shot, so I won't have another chance. Thankies!!! I love you guys and gals! *huggles* Now, on with the story.  
  
The flight home had been grueling. It was almost as though luck had been against her from the very beginning. Not only had she gotten stuck between two ill-behaved, ill-mannered brats the entire way, but there had been an unexpected lay-over in Moscow, making the already late flight even more delayed, and when she had arrived at the airport in Tokyo, she discovered her luggage missing-in-action. Since filing a complaint would chew away more precious minutes, she had opted to continue without them. She still had her purse and plenty of cash to replace everything lost, so she flagged down a cab and continued on her way.  
  
Watching the landscape pass the window at an unbearably slow rate, her mind began to wander, and she cursed herself for doing all this the "human" way. Looking at her watch, she sighed, realizing she could have been at her destination eight hours earlier had she chosen to fly. Well, she had chosen to fly, but it would have been much quicker and more efficient without the plane.  
  
As the cab finally pulled into the drive, she dug out her wallet to pay, and after doing so, quickly climbed out and stood looking at the house she had grown up in, as memories came flooding back. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she walked toward the front door, which opened before she had even pushed the doorbell.  
  
"Bra!" Bulma, her mother smiled and embraced her. "It's been a long time. I'm so glad you could make it!" Ushering Bra indoors, Bulma continued, "How was your trip, and where are your bags?"  
  
Bra smiled. She had almost forgotten what her mother's voice sounded like. She did talk to her mother at least once a week on the phone, but voices never do sound the same, never as human.  
  
"Hell," Bra answered. "Everything that could go wrong did, including my baggage disappearing. I'm so sorry about being late. Is he here yet?"  
  
Nodding her head, Bulma answered Bra's question. "I think I saw him going toward the Gravity Room a few minutes ago. He may still be there."  
  
"Okay, Mom. I think I'll go tell him hi. It's been a long time since we've talked." When Bulma nodded her approval, Bra headed for the Gravity Room. Though it had been years since she had trained, she knew exactly where to go.  
  
*******  
  
The greatest man I never knew  
  
Lived just down the hall  
  
And everyday we said hello  
  
But never touched at all  
  
*******  
  
As she neared the room, Bra noticed it was awfully quiet. When she had been living here, there had always been the sounds of training coming from within from her father's relentless preparations for battle. The room had most definitely served its purpose.  
  
Peering inside, Bra saw the back of a strong, proud man, one she loved dearly. "I really should have come home more often," she thought looking at his beautiful lavender locks. Clearing her throat to make her presence known, she stepped into the room.  
  
Trunks turned to face her, smiling in recognition. "Bra!" he greeted her happily, wrapping her in a bear hug. "It's nice to see you again, little sister. I was beginning to wonder if you had heard, or if you even remembered who we were."  
  
Hugging him back, Bra smiled and replied, "No, I could never forget you, you big dork. The truth is, I came as soon as I heard. The stupid flight was screwed. I should have just flown here without the plane. I really hate airlines."  
  
Trunks nodded his understanding, releasing his sister from his hug. "Yeah, I guess I had it pretty easy, living just across town. You know, Mom was pretty shook up at first, though she tried her best to hide it from me."  
  
"I'll bet. What did you do?" she asked.  
  
"Well, I called Goku and had him stay with her while I took care of all the arrangements. When I got back, she seemed much better. I think talking with him really helped."  
  
"Yeah, he's always had that effect on people, especially Mom. There's just something about his presence that makes you feel like everything's going to be alright, no matter what."  
  
Trunks simply nodded his agreement, once again.  
  
Bra looked down at the tile floor. "Was it quick? I mean, did he suffer?"  
  
Sighing, Trunks shook his head. "No. He just fell asleep while taking a break. The autopsy report said he had a massive heart attack. I asked the doctor if he hurt, and he said most likely not."  
  
"Well, that's good. At least Daddy wasn't in any pain, suffering," Bra sympathized.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Trunks, it's...It's so hard to believe he's gone. I didn't even get to say good-bye." Bra was still looking at the tiles, fighting back the waves of emotions she felt crashing on her heart.  
  
Trunks put his strong arm around her narrow shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. "None of us did, Bra. He left without any warning."  
  
Bra nodded, turning to look at her older brother. "At least you two were on good terms. When I moved, we had a huge fight and haven't talked since. All those years we lived under the same roof, fighting. I left and then he did too, before I could apologize. We never even took the time to get to know each other. Some great daughter I was. All I wanted was to hug him good- bye. I never even got that." She buried her face in her brother's shirt, crying, while he wrapped his arms around her in loving support.  
  
*******  
  
He was in his paper  
  
I was in my room  
  
How was I to know he thought  
  
I hung the moon?  
  
*******  
  
"Bra, Dad knew you cared, just like you know he did and still does. He was just too, too, something, to show it very often," Trunks explained.  
  
"Training," was the only word Bra could utter, that one word filled with disgust and all the abhorrence and revulsion she could muster. It had taken her father from her long before his heart attack.  
  
Trunks could only nod. There was no denying the fact that right up to his final day on Earth, their father, the proud prince, Vegeta, had been training, honing his skills, trying to unleash every ounce of his body's inner strength, pushing himself to his limits and beyond in an effort to beat Goku, Kakarot as he called him, to be the best. Maybe he finally just pushed too far.  
  
Pulling back and wiping the tears from her eyes, Bra spoke. "You know, it wouldn't have killed him to have played catch with us, hide-and-go-seek, Monopoly, something, anything. I tried so hard to get his attention, to make him proud, and the most I ever got for my trouble was a preoccupied grunt. All his damned training, this damned room," Bra gestured to their surroundings. "I just want to blow them from the face of the Earth! They took our father away! Our father!"  
  
Her eyes were now alight with anger and upon sensing her rising ki, Trunks knew he had to do something before she made good on her wishes and wiped out half the city in the process.  
  
"Bra, I understand. I got the same treatment, except for one thing. He and I did spend time together, in many cases, more than I would have preferred. I wasn't ignored. I was trained. Thank your lucky stars you were born female."  
  
Bulma had been on her way to join her children when she had heard them talking and decided she would like to listen, hear what they really thought and felt. She knew they would never say these things in her presence out of respect for her, though they obviously had little for him. Bulma chose now to clear her throat, making her presence known to her two children.  
  
Turning quickly to face their mother, Bra was the first to respond. "Hey, Mom. We didn't know you were there. We were just, ah, talking about Daddy and his, um, training."  
  
Bulma nodded her head, taking a few steps toward her children, fully entering the room. "I heard. You never knew, did you?"  
  
Both younger Briefs exchanged curious, worried looks. "Know what, Mom?" Trunks asked.  
  
Bulma closed her eyes and shook her head slowly and sadly before reopening them and answering. "Though your father may have seemed to love training and fighting more than anything else, nothing could be farther from the truth. It was you he loved, loved with all his heart and soul."  
  
Her children's incredulous gazes told Bulma neither of them understood or believed her.  
  
"Mom," Bra started sadly, "I don't know if you realize this or not, but Daddy barely noticed we existed unless we got in his way, inconvenienced him. He spent all his time in here and none with us. Don't people usually spend the majority of their time doing what they love most, when free to choose?"  
  
Bulma nodded. "You're right about that, but he didn't feel he was free to choose. He trained and worked hard to make sure he could protect you in a way his father was unable. It is true that training, fighting, and surpassing Goku were the only things he cared about at one time, but when you were born, things changed. He trained for you. He didn't want either of you to ever go through what he did."  
  
Looking up, into her eyes, Trunks nodded his understanding. "Okay, I can buy that, but if he cared so much, why didn't he spend more time with us, playing games, reading us stories, things like what Goku did?"  
  
Bulma smiled. "Trunks, dear, you have no idea how many nights I awoke at one or two a.m. only to find myself alone. Your father would be in the hall, watching you sleep, or in the den, affectionately playing with a toy you had left behind.  
  
"He would stand there with this serene, content look on his face as if simply watching you sleep, or thinking about you happy at play, was the greatest joy in his life. He looked so at peace, I hated to disturb him.  
  
"Some nights I would watch him for a while, smile, and go back to bed, knowing he would join me shortly. Others, I would walk up behind him, wrap my arms around his waist, and lay my head on his shoulders, enjoying the same simple feeling of pride I knew he felt every time his eyes fell on you." Bulma was lost in her reminiscing. "To him, no two beings could have been more perfect than his children. You just don't understand. He may not have been as affectionate as Goku, but he loved you just as much." Bulma lowered her voice, tears in her eyes, "Maybe more."  
  
Bra hung her head. "I'm sorry, Mom. You're right, we didn't know."  
  
Bulma nodded. "It's understandable." Looking sadly around the gravity room, Bulma sighed. "This place holds too many memories right now. Why don't we go to the kitchen for some tea?" She turned and walked out of the room.  
  
"Sure, Mom," Trunks responded, putting his arm around Bra, leading her after their mother.  
  
At the door, Bra shrugged off her brother's arm. When he turned to her, curiously, she just smiled reassuringly and turned to look back at the gravity room. It was almost as if she could see her father training, kicking and punching his invisible opponents. He would never do so again, not in this dimension. She sighed at the silence before turning off the lights and moving to the kitchen where her mother was busy preparing three cups of tea.  
  
*******  
  
The greatest man I never knew  
  
Came home late every night  
  
He never had too much to say  
  
Too much was on his mind  
  
*******  
  
"Here ya go." Bulma placed cups of warm tea in front of her children, who were seated at the table, and joined them. "It's a bit warm," she cautioned, causing both her children to smile. No matter how old, successful, and powerful they became, she would always be their mother and treat them as if they were three, just another way she showed her love.  
  
"So, Trunks. How's work been?" Bra asked, smiling.  
  
Trunks playfully glared at her, for a moment in time, the spitting image of his father. "With all the growth and development of our European offices, I'm swamped. I was lucky to get away for a couple of days, though I'm sure no one's appreciating having to handle my work load while I'm away."  
  
Bra smiled even more. "Sorry about that, Trunks. I just can't help but expand and dominate, maybe it's in the genes."  
  
"It may be," Bulma offered. "My question is, which side of the family you caught it from. It seems to have run in both."  
  
Trunks nodded. "You know, I still can't decide if putting you in charge of our European branch was the smartest or dumbest thing I ever did," he joked. "My pocketbook's happy, as are our investors, but I now have nearly double the work with all the deals you make."  
  
"Awww!" Bra teased. "The boss-man is over worked. You know, I really do like it over there. I have tons of room to be creative and innovative, but I sure hate being so far from everyone. Coming home, it turns out, is a rather complicated affair, but I'm glad I was able to make it."  
  
"Me too," Bulma responded, taking her daughter's hand in her own. "You two just be careful. You come from a line of workaholics. Don't over do it, and be sure not to lose sight of what's truly important." She smiled supportively.  
  
"Don't worry, Mom," Bra reassured her. "I got more than my work ethic from you. I never have been able to resist a good time. It's Trunks over there you ought to worry about becoming a workaholic." Smiling, she pointed at her brother who was busy trying to look innocent.  
  
Bulma looked at Bra seriously. "Who says you get your work ethic from me?" Testing her tea's temperature, Bulma took a satisfied sip.  
  
"C'mon, Mom. We all know Dad never had a real job here on Earth. He bummed off you and Grandpa," Trunks inserted.  
  
"Trunks, dear, what would you call his training if not work?"  
  
"An obsession," Bra said quickly.  
  
Bulma's lips pulled into a slight smile. "That too, but more importantly, it was his job, and in that sense he worked more than any of us. Now Trunks, I know you could easily become a workaholic. When do you usually call it a night?"  
  
Trunks took a sip of tea and reached to scratch his head in thought, a habit he had picked up from Goten, years ago. "Gee, I guess I usually leave the office around ten and go home where I worked until one or two."  
  
Bulma smiled knowingly. "Like father, like son. I never worked hours like those, I needed my beauty sleep, and your grandfather did only because he was so excited about a project that he'd forget the clock. No, you work like your father, determined to get as much out of the day as possible. He would many times train late into the night. There were times he just never stopped, training literally, all night," Bulma reminisced.  
  
"I remember that," Bra added, "And yes, Trunks is just like him in lots of ways."  
  
"So are you!" Trunks retorted.  
  
Smiling, Bra stuck her tongue out at Trunks.  
  
"Kids," Bulma warned playfully. "Both of you are like him, but I do believe you favor him most, Trunks. Not only are you both dedicated to your respective jobs, but even the way you handle life is similar. Neither of you talk much about your thoughts and feelings. For him talking was for bragging, threatening, and occasionally joking if anyone caught his rather strange and cruel humor. Other than that, he preferred to keep everything to himself. Even when he was training, he had a far away, thoughtful look in his eyes."  
  
*******  
  
I never really knew him  
  
And now it seems so sad  
  
Everything he gave to us  
  
Took all he had  
  
*******  
  
"So, you're saying a lot of the times we thought he was angry or sulking, he was only thinking?" Trunks inquired, trying to comprehend this newfound information.  
  
"Precisely," his mother agreed.  
  
Bra sat stunned, too stunned to speak, for the moment. Once she had processed it all, she said softly, "Wow, it's like I lived with this man, my father, most of my life, and I really didn't know a thing about him. I only presumed. He was my daddy, and yet I had no clue..." she trailed off, Trunks nodding his agreement.  
  
Bulma finished her tea. "I know. It took me a while, too." Rising from her seat, Bulma took her cup to the sink. Turning back to her remaining family members, she stated, "I still have some things to do and we have to go to the viewing tonight. Everyone's going to be there." She looked at her watch, tiredly. "Well, actually, we have to leave in about thirty minutes. I'm going to get ready now. Okay?"  
  
Trunks nodded. "Sure, Mom. We'll be just fine while you go do that."  
  
"Yeah, we can hold down the fort while you dress," Bra added.  
  
Bulma sighed. "Okay, I guess I'm gone now." With that, she left for her bedroom to prepare for the outing.  
  
After watching their mother's departure, Trunks turned to his little sister. "Why don't we go to the den? The chairs in there are much more comfortable."  
  
"Sure thing, Trunks," she responded, standing and picking up their teacups. "Let me put these up first."  
  
Trunks stood, "Sure. I'll meet you in there. You do still know the way, right?"  
  
"I most certainly do! I'll be there in a minute, just get out of here!" Bra told Trunks as he walked out the door, laughing. She quickly placed the cups in the sink before joining her brother, who was seated comfortably on the sofa. Instead of joining him, she walked across the room to a shelf holding knick-knacks and pictures. She smiled at her prom picture, her brother's graduation picture, and one group photo from her first birthday. In it her mother was sitting next to Videl Son, a family friend, and both women held their daughters in their laps. Bra was screaming her head off because Pan, the other youngster, was tugging at her ponytail. Pan always had been tougher and at a full year older, much stronger than Bra.  
  
"What are you looking at?" Trunks inquired from his seat.  
  
Bra shrugged. "Just some old pictures." She frowned. "Did you know there are pictures over here of everyone, expect Daddy?"  
  
Trunks shook his head. "No, I didn't." Standing, he walked to Bra's side. "There has to be at least one around here."  
  
It was Bra's turn to shake her head as she spoke, gesturing to the shelf. "See? There isn't one."  
  
Trunks inspected the pictures for himself and was forced to draw the same conclusion. Looking around, he noticed some drawers. "Maybe she has one in there."  
  
"Maybe." Bra walked over and began opening the drawers, one at the time. Most were filled with miscellaneous papers, but one caught her attention when she noticed it contained newspaper clippings.  
  
"Trunks, come here!" she demanded.  
  
Obeying, Trunks asked, "What?"  
  
Bra had begun pulling the articles out of their hiding place. "Look at these, Trunks." She began reading the headlines. "Capsule Corps Expansion.Capsule Corps Under New Management.Brief Holds Annual Charity Ball.Brief In Charge Of European Branch." As she neared the drawer's bottom, one article caught her eye. "Rogue Warrior Kills Thousands." she said softly, recognizing her father's photo.  
  
Trunks looked up from the small stack he had been sifting through. "Let me see that." He took the paper from Bra. "A city is left in ruins after hosting the World Martial Arts Championship, where one competitor turned on the masses, killing almost everyone in attendance," he read aloud before falling silent. "Dad," he said softly.  
  
"Oh," Bra said quietly, her gaze drifting decidedly downward, where she spotted another clipping. Gingerly lifting it, she read, "Vision Leaves World In Shock. Majin Buu, a terrifying monster has destroyed more of Earth's cities than not, totally obliterating them. We are all left wondering: Where are the Earth's Special Forces?"  
  
Bra looked over at Trunks, sadly. "He was dead then. Wasn't he?"  
  
"Yeah," Trunks agreed. "He died fighting Buu. From what I gather, he used so much power that his body couldn't handle it and he died, blown to bits. Piccolo said there was nothing left."  
  
Despite her struggles to contain them, tears were forming in Bra's eyes. "Daddy sacrificed himself so we'd be safe.I guess I just never really thought about that until now. I just dismissed it as some strange anomaly I would never understand."  
  
"Yeah," Trunks agreed, "same here. He gave it his all, including his life." Both stood, lost in thought.  
  
*******  
  
Then the days turned into years  
  
And the memories to black and white  
  
He grew cold like an old winter's wind  
  
Blowing across my life  
  
*******  
  
"Trunks?"  
  
"Yes, Bra?"  
  
"If Daddy meant so much to everyone and did so much for them, especially us, his family, then why isn't there at least one picture of him around here somewhere? I would think after so many years, Mom would have managed to get at least one picture of him. She can be pretty stubborn about things like that when she wants to be"  
  
"I know. Dad never did like cameras, he was a bit of a spoilsport, but I am surprised there aren't at least a few."  
  
Bra thought for a moment. "You don't suppose she has some somewhere else around here, do you?"  
  
Trunks momentarily thought the idea over. "You know, I wonder if Mom didn't take the pictures of him to the funeral home."  
  
Bra looked at him curiously. "You think she did?"  
  
"Yeah, that's all I can think of."  
  
Glancing at her Rolex, Bra answered, "Well, it's just about time to leave. Maybe one of us should check on Mom."  
  
"Don't worry about that," Bulma called from the doorway. "I'm dressed."  
  
Bra walked to her mother's side, and tucking a stray lock of blue hair behind her ear asked, "Are you ready? I mean, up to this. It could get pretty intense."  
  
"I think so," Bulma smiled bravely. "I can do this. Now if you two are ready, let's go."  
  
"We are." Trunks put his arm around his mother, gently and lovingly leading her to the car. Bra followed, crawling in the backseat. Trunks settled Bulma in the passenger's side, and then climbed behind the wheel, driving to the funeral home.  
  
When they arrived, the lot already had several cars parked in various spots. "Looks like we're the last ones here," Trunks commented, parking his mother's hover car beside the one he knew belonged to Gohan.  
  
Bra was the first out, with Trunks only moments behind, rushing to open the door for Bulma. His efforts did not go unrecognized as she took his offered hand and smiled. "Well, at least my kids have manners," she commented.  
  
"Of course," Bra responded, stepping to Bulma's side. "We love you. Mom, no matter how bad it gets, remember that."  
  
"If it gets too hard, just say something and we'll take you home. Everyone will understand." Trunks put his arm around Bulma in support, and began leading her to the entrance. He had to be strong, for their sake, now that his father was unable, gone.  
  
"Trunks, I will," Bulma smiled weakly at her son. "I'm just glad both of you are here."  
  
"Don't worry about it, Mom. You were there for us enough times in the past. It's high time we started paying you back." Bra stepped through the door her brother held wide, gently supporting her mother. Looking quickly around the room, she spotted the funeral home director, standing beside a doorway, wearing a black suit, and keeping watch over a book for the guests to sign as they entered.  
  
"That's it," Bulma said, nodding toward the doorway, as Trunks rejoined them. "Let's go." She smiled bravely at Bra, and began walking in that direction, bringing her children along.  
  
"Good evening," the director greeted the trio. "Most of your guests are here already." Glancing at Bra, he commented, "This must be your daughter." At Bulma's nod, he continued, "I'm terribly sorry about your loss. Be sure to let me know if there is anything I can do."  
  
"Move out of the way," Bra responded, to which she received a surprised, "Huh?"  
  
"You're blocking the doorway," she said curtly, smiling at the same time.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am" the director bowed and stepped out of the way, allowing the Briefs to pass. Even now, with the loss of Vegeta heavy on their minds, Bulma and Trunks couldn't help but give small grins. The girl had always had a touch of spunk.  
  
The first person to catch sight of the Briefs was Chi-Chi, who promptly crossed the room and embraced all three simultaneously. "I'm so sorry," she wailed. "I never did like Vegeta, but you don't deserve to be alone again." She finally released the younger Briefs and focused her full attention on Bulma.  
  
Bra quickly stepped away from the woman she had always considered just a tad bit psychotic, lest she be caught again. A quick look around the room confirmed that most of the old gang had already assembled. Tien and Chiaotzu were not expected, having disappeared completely, years ago, but it looked like everyone else had made it.  
  
A hand found its way to Bra's shoulder, and rested there, gently, as a voice spoke. "I'm glad to see you were able to make it back." Turning, Bra saw the kind, blue eyes of Videl Son.  
  
"Yes, I am too," she agreed, nodding her head and accepting the embrace from the older woman. After a moment, Bra pulled away, Videl allowing her. Almost immediately, she was met by Pan, then Krillin, Goku, and Yamcha on down the line until everyone in the room had offered their condolences, Bra growing more impatient by the moment. Right now she needed closure, not sympathy.  
  
Just as she thought she couldn't bear it any longer, everyone backed off, allowing her to see the coffin across the room. Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, Bra summoned the courage to make the trek to her late father's side. As she stepped closer, she caught a glimpse of him. Honestly, it was the first time she had seen him in a suit, the sight so foreign and odd to her, it was almost comical, and despite the circumstances, she couldn't help but smile.  
  
Looking into the coffin, she noticed how peaceful he looked. His normal scowl, thought permanent by many, was gone, as were the furrows in his brow. It was almost as if she was seeing him for the first time. Then again, maybe she was.  
  
Bra felt a presence beside her and didn't need to look to know it was Trunks. Her big brother had always been there when she needed him. She guessed he must figure she needed him now. Sometimes all the attention made her feel smothered, today she was grateful. He was the only person who could fully understand what she was going through at the moment.  
  
"He looks so peaceful," Bra spoke her thoughts softly.  
  
"I know." Trunks nodded. "I've never seen him like this."  
  
"I have," Bulma voiced, stepping to Bra's other side. "He looked like that when he was asleep, especially after watching the two of you sleep before coming to bed."  
  
"Oh," was the only thing Bra could think to say.  
  
Smiling and nodding her approval of the funeral home's work, Bulma turned back to her long time friends, not wanting to remember the love of her life in a coffin, lined by white satin and cherry wood. No, she much preferred her memories of the long years, which suddenly seemed so short.  
  
Turning to speak to Trunks, Bra's attention was caught by the glint of light off gold. As she focused, taking full note of the glint's source, she saw it was a picture frame, sitting among several others on the lower, closed end of the coffin.  
  
"Trunks, look," she said, pointing toward the frames. "There they are."  
  
Trunks turned his attention to the frames, which his sister was now studying. After a moment of looking at various photographs, both their eyes fell on the same picture, causing them to smile and Bra to stifle a giggle threatening to erupt.  
  
"Trunks, do you see what I see?" she asked, thinking her eyes might well be playing tricks on her. All doubts were cast aside though as Trunks nodded his head, confirming he indeed saw the same thing.  
  
Wanting a better look, Bra gingerly lifted the frame and looked into it, her finger lazily outlining her father's face before she gently taped the glass, bringing attention to his attire. "As a little girl, I always wondered how Daddy would look in pink and I never understood why he blushed when I drew a picture of him and colored his clothes pink." Smiling, Bra continued, "Now I do."  
  
Trunks smiled his agreement. "We found the pictures and got a little more than we bargained for," Trunks spoke, reaching for another frame, containing a family photo his grandpa had taken shortly before his father and Bra had their fight, prompting her move to Europe. Things had been simpler back then.  
  
Stepping between the gawking individuals, Bulma placed an arm around each of their waists. "I think I'm ready to go," she spoke softly. Trunks and Bra quickly set down the photos they had been inspecting and turned their full attention to their mother.  
  
"Are you sure?" Bra asked. "I mean, are you okay? Nothing's wrong. Is it?"  
  
Shaking her head, Bulma reassured them, "Nothing's wrong. We've all talked it over and don't see the point in staying the full two hours. I think it's depressing to be here like this. We want to remember him as he was, scowl and all. Besides, we'll all see each other again tomorrow at the service."  
  
"Oh, okay. I guess we're ready as well," Trunks replied, turning around with his mother to leave. Once again, Bra lingered as the rest of the room's occupants filed out, wanting one last moment with her father.  
  
"I know you're not here, and you can't hear me, but I'm sorry, and I love you, Daddy," Bra spoke softly, her voice full of pent emotions she had not expressed in years. Quickly, she kissed her fingertips, placed them on her father's cool cheek, and smiled sadly. "Sorry it took me so long to say that." Noticing she and Pan were the only people remaining, Bra turned to her old friend and allowed herself to be led from the silent room.  
  
*******  
  
The greatest words I never heard  
  
I guess I'll never hear  
  
The man I thought could never die  
  
S'been dead almost a year  
  
*******  
  
The day had been overcast and gray all through the service, which had been outdoors, graveside. Eventually, everyone had left. The Brief family was now alone.  
  
Bra had no idea how long her mother, brother, and she had been standing there, but it had been a considerable amount of time. She had survived the short service, stone-faced and silent, her mother's silent tears tearing at her heart, her brother, the spitting image of his father with a determined look upon his face through the entire service. He was going to be strong, not cry. He was now the man of the family and had to look after his mother and sister. There was no room for weakness.  
  
Afterward, their friends had stayed a while, once more expressing their sorrow at the loss their friends, the Briefs, were now feeling, the loss they were all feeling, before returning to their lives, their families. Still the Briefs had remained, as yet unable to part with the man they had known as a husband and father.  
  
Eventually, the attendants had been forced to cautiously approach them, asking if they could finish their job and go. Trunks had silently nodded, standing with his mother and sister, watching from as distance as his father's coffin had been lowered into the ground and covered, never to be seen again. Not in this dimension anyway. Even after this, they remained.  
  
Finally, Bra took Trunks's hand for support and walked to stand beside the upturned earth, concealing her father's body. Leaning on her brother for support, she spoke, "It's still not sinking in yet. I know he's gone, but I can't believe it even though I just watched them bury him. It's like he's sleeping and I keep expecting him to wake up and be fine...I mean, how can our father, one of the strongest beings in the universe, Prince of all Saiyans, my Daddy, actually be...dead?" As she spoke, silent tears had begun snaking their way down her cheeks.  
  
"I know exactly what you mean. I can't believe it either. Before, he always came back, but there's no wishing him back this time. He's really gone," Trunks sadly concluded.  
  
Wiping at her tears, Bra bent and placed her hand on the ground above her father. "Good-bye, Daddy," she said simply, rising and turning to face Trunks. "I think I'm going to leave now."  
  
"I understand," Trunks replied. "I'd go with you, but Mom needs someone." Bra nodded her understanding as Trunks turned to Bulma, who was standing several yards behind them.  
  
"Go ahead," Bulma instructed. "Take your sister on home. I have another capsule. Besides, I want to be alone with him for a few minutes."  
  
"You sure, Mom?" Trunks double-checked.  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
Nodding, Trunks turned and placing an arm around her shoulders, led Bra away.  
  
Smiling softly at what wonderful children she had, Bulma waited, watching them leave. Finally, she was alone.  
  
*******  
  
He was good at business  
  
But there was business left to do  
  
He never said he loved me  
  
Guess he thought I knew  
  
*******  
  
Bulma smiled slightly and stepped to her husband's grave, inspecting the hastily raised headstone. Sometimes being the richest, most powerful woman on the planet had its advantages. Whenever a business received a call from the Brief family, all other matters were forgotten in their rush to please the powerful trio.  
  
She just stood, looking at the granite in front of her for several minutes, each seeming an eternity in length. Slowly, her gaze shifted to the spot beside his name. It held her name and birth date. She fully intended to lay next to him in death as she had in life.  
  
The simple act of looking upon the stone, brought so many emotions to the surface, and try hard as she may to remain stoic, a few tears crept down the dark trails already present from earlier in the day. For once, she was silent. No words could express her feelings, her grief, pride, loneliness, yet somehow she felt elated. Somehow knowing he was dead, no longer haunted by his past, brought her a sense of peace. She was still a relatively young woman, considering modern medicine, but now she had something for which to look forward. When death finally came to visit, she would have someone waiting. He would be there.  
  
Taking a deep breath and wiping away her tears, Bulma smiled slightly as she found her voice. "Vegeta. You always were stubborn. I told you, you were going to kill yourself one day with all that training, but as usual, you didn't listen. You never did. I know you felt you had to pay for your sins, make up for all the evils you committed, but my husband was a different man from the monster who murdered all those people."  
  
Slowly, Bulma stretched out her hand, laying it atop the stone. "You never said it Vegeta. You never said how much you cared. At first, I know you didn't, but you changed. Though you might not have known the cause of that change, I do. Love. It was love, Vegeta. You loved us all so much even if you weren't sure how to show it. You did your best, that's all anyone can ask."  
  
Pulling her hand from the cold, gray stone, Bulma placed a kiss on her fingertips, and placed them on the cuts into the mighty stone, spelling the name of an even mightier man. Just as this stone had been cut from the quarry, so had he from her life. Now, the stone stood as a monument, a testimony to a life, one Bulma considered a great life, which had, for a moment in time, joined hers, bringing a love and fulfillment she might never have known otherwise.  
  
"I love you, Vegeta," she said softly, "And I always will." With those precious words said, there were no more, none appropriate.  
  
Looking at the granite through the fresh tears welling up in her eyes, Bulma removed her hand and took a few steps back, preparing to leave, when an odd feeling struck her, causing her to freeze as a fresh, spring breeze rustled the leaves of the trees, including the one at the head of Vegeta's grave, giving him shelter.  
  
Bulma closed her eyes, enjoying the way the breeze caressed her face and gently tangled her hair. It was warm and comforting. On a whim, she opened her eyes, only to catch a slight movement of color, pale pink, flash on its way below her field of vision. Looking down, she spotted the source of the movement and color. Laying at her toes was a pale cherry blossom from the tree before her.  
  
The woman raised her eyes, looking around for more fallen blossoms. Spotting none, she bent, smiling, and gently lifted the flower from the ground. Holding it to her chest, her heart, still smiling, she rose slowly until she was once again at her full height. Bulma lifted her tear filled eyes to the clouds, nodded her acknowledgement, and opened her mouth. "I know, Vegeta. I know."  
  
These final words spoken, those final emotions expressed, Bulma turned and bravely left. She may have lost her husband, but she still had her children, she was still alive, and she would see him again. This she knew for certain. Not even death could or would keep her from her love.  
  
As Bulma climbed behind the wheel of her vehicle, she quickly raised the flower to her nose, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply, inhaling its wonderful fragrance. Sighing, she set in on the dashboard planning to press it to keep forever, for it was a token of his love.  
  
As the car pulled away, the first few drops, which had been threatening all day, began to fall, soon soaking the earth and wetting the numerous headstones. On the top of a small hill, under a cherry tree in full bloom there existed one exception. It read: Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans, but more importantly, of our hearts.  
  
Song: The Greatest Man I Never Knew  
  
Written by: Richard Leigh and Layng Martine, Jr.  
  
Performed by: Reba McEntire  
  
A/N: Okay, so maybe I Americanized it just a tad bit. Oh wells, I thought it made for a good story. Don't you agree? Well, I know this was really long for a one shot and almost four times as long as most of my updates. I worked really hard for several weeks to have this ready for you, so I sure hope you enjoyed it! Oh, and don't forget to review!!! Thankies! 


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